Page 5 of A Court of Truth and Thorns (Royal Scout #2)
KALI
M y body stills. I stare at Trace, half expecting him to laugh and declare it all a jest. My heart pounds against my ribs, the sounds of the forest suddenly too loud. Intrusive.
The owl hoots again, as if to say that she heard my complaint and little appreciates it.
Trace swallows, the apple of his throat bobbing. “Do you know how stupid it was of me? To run off, making no arrangements, waiting for no one, likely heading into the same trouble that caught you?”
Trace brushes his large palm over his face, rasping softly against the stubble that’s grown since morning. There is a small scratch above his left brow, the blood dry now but still visible in the dim light. The vulnerability in his gaze flickers like a light bug.
I blink at him like that silly hooting owl.
His words still race along my nerves, making my breath come quick, leaving me with too little air.
He steps closer and raises a hand to cup my face this time, running the pad of his thumb along my cheekbone.
My skin tingles where it touches his. Instinct, born of years under Lord Gapral’s rule, screams at me to pull away.
This will end in hurt, in blood, in death, in pain , a voice in the back of my mind hollers.
You know better. Despite the chill air, beads of sweat soak my temples, and my legs tense, ready to run.
But something stronger keeps me still, even while my heart races as if trying to match the rhythm of his.
From the twitch of Trace’s face, I know he feels the pounding in my chest as vividly as I feel his.
His silver hair, unbound tonight, cascades over his face down to my shoulders, cocooning us together.
In a trick of the moonlight, a speck of silver shimmers in his eyes as well.
His body’s lean muscles, whose movements my body has learned from training and shared battles, are still as night now.
His free hand rises to cover my galloping heart.
“Don’t leave us,” I whisper, so quietly I can barely make out my own words. “Don’t leave me. ” A sharp intake of breath.
Closing my eyes, I lean into the warm hand he still holds to my face.
It smells of steel and salt. I breathe deeply, savoring his scent, determined to burn it into my memory before it’s gone.
Trace’s thumb caresses my cheek again. A touch so gentle, it should belong to a butterfly instead of a deadly warrior.
Heat rushes through me, starting on my cheeks and running down the back of my throat, my chest, the inside of my thighs. All the fibers in my body want more . Even as I’m terrified by more. Even as I don’t know what under the stars more looks like.
Just that I want this heat to last forever.
Trace’s thumb touches my lips, sending a new wave of energy cascading through me.
I open my eyes, meeting the dark intensity of his. “Rune,” I whisper .
He flinches at the name, but instead of pulling away, he leans closer to me. “Yes,” he breathes, his body taut with the same energy that has woken my senses. My mouth parts, moving of its own accord as my heart stutters.
Trace’s nostrils flare delicately, as if he’s taking in every sense of the moment. His hand slides from my chest to cup the back of my head. His face dips, his lips so close to mine that the phantom tickle of their touch brushes my skin.
My hands wrap around his waist, my nails digging into his back.
Trace growls faintly, the sound rumbling with a deep, feral possessiveness that awakens my body to every smell, every line, every touch that is him.
His lips brush the corner of my mouth, his body trembling with restraint.
My grip on his back tightens, my body demanding—begging for—his touch, even as remnants of fear pulsate through my veins.
The brand on my shoulder throbs in memory of Lord Gapral’s lessons. Of consequences.
Trace’s tongue caresses my lower lip. Teasing and questioning. A tongue that knows exactly what it’s doing, if the tingle rushing through my body is any indication. A small moan escapes me, and his mouth finds mine, sealing the sound between us.
The press of his lips is soft only for the heartbeat it takes me to press into his touch. Then his mouth pushes hungrily against mine.
The energy waking my body moments ago is nothing compared to the explosion that sears through me now. An impossible mix of terror and pleasure. I taste the steel and wind that is Trace, each press of his tongue igniting a new flame inside me. My essence trembles, volatile as black powder.
My nails press into his skin. Trace’s other hand moves from my face to brace the small of my back, his hard body both unyielding and protective as he holds me against him.
We pull apart violently, our burning lungs demanding the breath they’ve been denied too long.
Panting, I stare at Trace, who is frozen too, except for his heaving chest. Cool air rushes between us, sending a tremor through me.
Fear and desire whisper to me in unison.
What have you done, Kali? What will you do now?
My face heats as my body proposes an answer.
The stiffness of Trace’s shoulders betrays his own struggle to reclaim mastery of his blood.
“What do we tell the others?” I ask finally between ragged breaths.
“You can start with the truth,” Luca’s harsh voice says from a few paces away. “And go from there.”